On The Rise
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: It started off as a small prank war.  It quickly devolved into something much, much scarier.  Expect the Unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is part of the _Expect The Unexpected_ series I'm working on, which is, frankly, exactly what it sounds like. As part of my everlasting quest to defy any and all possible cliches, something completely unfathomable occurs with one member of the Glee club in each fic of the series. The goal? To have each character (even Matt and Mike, poor underfed pups) so far out of their league, but still remain in character. This is installment number nine, but none of them are connected plot-wise, so there aren't any prequels you have to read for any of them. Some will be tragic, some scary, some mysterious, some humorous. Enough jabber - please enjoy!

* * *

**

_On The Rise_

_Me and him, him and me,_

_We're always together, as you can see._

_I wish he'd leave so I'd be free_

_I'm getting a little bit tired of he_

_And he may be a bit bored with me_

_But I guess there's worse things we could be_

_Instead of two, we could be three_

_Me and him, him and me._

_~Shel Silverstein, "Us"

* * *

_

Mike whistled as he collected his change off the counter and walked out of the gas station convenience store with two slushies in hand to where Matt was leaning against his pickup, flipping his keys around his fingers. Taking one of the Big Gulp cups, Matt chuckled and said, "You know, I think we might be the only two guys on the team who buys slushies to actually _drink_ them."

Mike laughed and agreed as he climbed into the passenger seat. Matt hopped in behind the wheel and turned on the radio, pulling out of the lot as the sounds of Green Day filled the cab.

"Oh, by the way, man," Mike started. "Kurt's having some sort of party tonight – he announced it yesterday when you were out sick. Anyways, it's like a celebration for getting another year or something. You game?"

"I dunno. Who else is gonna be there?"

Mike knew that Matt was not the kind of guy to leap at the opportunity to go to a party. He vaguely remembered Matt saying something along the lines of not enjoying the over-stimulation, but from what Mike understood, Matt was simply not quite as keen to socialize as most normal teenage boys on football teams. Not that he'd pass up an opportunity to get laid, though, which meant that if Santana or Brittany were going, he was sure to show up sooner or later (Matt had only managed to do Brittany once, and that was sort of because she had a brain the size of a walnut, but hey, he was always up for new territory). "Well, since it's Kurt's party Mercedes, Tina, and Artie go without saying. Quinn's going, too. I'm not sure if Puck or Finn are, but I know Rachel is…"

"Uh-oh," Matt smirked while keeping his eyes on the road. "This party is now destined to end up as a diva-off, isn't it?"

"Almost definitely. So, are you coming, or do you want me to bring the video camera so you can watch the epic fight later?"

Matt slurped down a particularly large gulp of slushie. "Fine, I'll be there. But bring the camera anyways. YouTube calls."

"Sweet."

A few seconds later, Matt hissed through his teeth. "_Ow_…major brain freeze."

And if Mike's eyeballs hadn't felt like they were about to pop out of his skull, he would have laughed. "Ditto here," he said.

* * *

Later that night, Mike sat on the couch in Kurt's basement bedroom with Brittany, who was being rather obvious in her attempts to make out with him. Mike was in a rare mood, though, and didn't feel like getting down and dirty with the dumb (though admittedly _very_ hot) Cheerio. He wasn't feeling that great, anyway. Maybe it was that massive slushie he'd had earlier coming back for some digestive payback.

The majority of the Gleeks were either digging into the pizza Kurt's dad had ordered for them, dancing to the Hummels' _seriously_ awesome sound system, or (in Puck's case) making out with Santana. Looks like Matt's chances with the HBIC for the night were shot, Mike thought with a slight chuckle.

"What are you laughing at?" Brittany asked.

"Nothing, Britt."

She frowned, swallowing a gulp of her diet Pepsi. "People say that to me a lot."

"Say what?"

"They'll laugh at something and when I ask about it they just say 'nothing'."

Mike grinned and leaned back. Brittany was dumb, yes, but she did tend to pick up on things like that, and he could tell that she didn't appreciate being treated like she had the IQ of a tadpole (even if it was true). "I was just thinking that Matt lost his chance with Santana tonight."

Brittany gave him her trademark confused look. "What do you mean?"

Mike pointed over to where Puck and Santana were playing tonsil-hockey. "Matt was hoping to do that with Santana first."

"I don't get it."

Mike sighed – he didn't want to have a birds-and-the-bees discussion with the airheaded cheerleader, but then it was her turn to say something that confused _him_.

"Is Matt your imaginary friend?"

Mike did a double-take so fast that it hurt his neck, then mustered up an intelligent "…What?"

She grinned. "I have an imaginary friend too – his name is Donald. He's a duck."

_What is it with this girl and ducks?_ "Britt, Donald Duck is a cartoon character, he's not imaginary."

Brittany frowned with such an intense look on her face, she looked almost exactly like Finn trying to listen to Rachel for a split second. "But Santana said he wasn't real…"

"Well, he's not, but—" Mike gave his head a shake. "Never mind. Why did you ask if Matt was my imaginary friend?"

"Isn't that what he is?"

"Uh…no."

"Oh. So who is he?" Brittany looked genuinely curious, which threw Mike off-guard. This was the girl who could remember the name of every single person she'd made out with (and if it took up precious brain capacity, then so be it), watching him and expecting him to tell her who Matt Rutherford was. _Matt Rutherford_. Mute Matt. Shaft. He may have been quiet, but he wasn't invisible, and not even Brittany was that dumb.

Mike brushed off his confusion with a nervous laugh. "Maybe you should lay off the beer for tonight, huh, Britt?"

Brittany looked startled and peered into her Pepsi can. "There's beer in here?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mike scanned the room for his comrade-in-arms. His stomach was churning now – he still wasn't sure why, but he had an unpleasant feeling that his slushie was going to make an encore – and he didn't want to deal with Brittany's… Brittany-ness. Strangely enough, Matt was nowhere to be seen.

"Yo, Finn!" he called, and Frankenteen looked over from where he was raiding the neatly arranged buffet table (courtesy of Kurt). Mike stood up and walked over to him. "You seen Matt?"

Finn frowned, his mouth full of pizza and tried to voice a question. Rachel, standing beside him with a virgin cocktail in her hand, reached up and patted his shoulder. "Swallow first," she reminded him.

"Have you seen Matt?" Mike repeated.

Finn gulped down his mouthful of food, still looking bewildered. "Who?"

"Matt."

"Uh…"

Mike sighed, exasperated. Finn was exponentially smarter than Brittany, which really wasn't saying much, but still. There was absolutely no way he'd forgotten who Matt was, regardless of Matt's lack of conversational skills and personality presence.

Rachel shot him a worried look. "Mike, are you feeling all right?" she inquired, tilting her head to the side in a fashion that made her look almost exactly like a cocker spaniel.

He rubbed the back of his neck, annoyed and more than a little fed up. "Look, guys, I didn't sleep that well last night, and I'm tired. I'd like to go home. So whatever amusement you're getting out of this thing is going to waste. Will you just tell me where Matt went so I can get a ride?"

Finn slowly put his pizza down on the table, still regarding Mike with a rare serious look. "Dude, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Mike snapped. "I'd just like to get a ride."

The gargantuan boy exchanged a confused look with Rachel, then fished his car keys out of his pocket. "I can give you a ride, dude." Mike was about to protest that no, he came with Matt, and he'd like to leave with Matt, thanks very much, but Finn cut him off. "Really, man, it's fine. Come on." He clapped Mike on the back and led him upstairs, telling Rachel he'd be back soon.

"Okay, seriously, are you feeling okay, dude?" Finn asked the second they were out the front door. "'Cause…you're acting weird and stuff."

"I said I'm fine," Mike insisted. "I'm just feeling a little sick to the stomach is all. Too much pizza I guess. Messes with the dancing."

"Uh-huh," was Finn's intelligent reply. Mike could tell from his tone, though, that Finn thought that there was something more than an upset stomach.

When Finn finally pulled up in front of the Changs' house ten minutes later, Mike thanked him briskly for the ride and got out. Stopping before going inside, Mike leaned down and spoke to Finn through the drivers' side window. "Look, can you just tell Matt to give me a call tomorrow? We have plans."

Finn regarded Mike with a perfectly even stare. "Dude, I have no idea who you're talking about."

* * *

**A/N:**** Please leave a review and tell me what you think of it. If you enjoyed the first chapter and are interested in the concept of this series, add me to Author Alert to be notified when the other installments in the series are posted. So far, Brittany's, Santana's, Tina's, Kurt's, Mercedes', Artie's, and Puck's are posted - please check them out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am so, so sorry for the delay. Rube got completely stuck on where to go with it, but now the ideas are steadily flowing, so updates should increase :)**

_

* * *

_

Me and him, him and me,

_We're always together, as you can see._

_I wish he'd leave so I'd be free_

_I'm getting a little bit tired of he_

_And he may be a bit bored with me_

_But I guess there's worse things we could be_

_Instead of two, we could be three_

_Me and him, him and me._

~Shel Silverstein, "Us"

* * *

Still annoyed at his fellow Glee-clubbers' insistence that they didn't know who Matt was, Mike flopped down on his bed and pulled out his cell, sending a quick text to the boy whose existence was in question.

_Yo man whered you go? I had 2 get a ride from finn._

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Mike sighed, kicking off his shoes, removing his shirt and changing into a pair of sweatpants before climbing into bed. He was just dropping off to sleep when his phone vibrated on the bedside table, snapping him back awake.

_sry dude, wasnt feelin well. Sorta had 2 rush out._

Mike hmphed, a reaction he'd somehow managed to pick up from Kurt, before sending a reply. _Whatever r we still on 4 basketball 2morrow?_

_yeah def. c u then?_

Mike tossed his phone back onto the table and rolled over. He'd have to read Finn, Rachel, and Brittany the riot act come Monday, just for bugging the hell out of him.

* * *

Mike liked it best when the gym was quiet. Most Saturday afternoons, the gym was crowded with people hogging the exercise machines, so he and Matt had agreed to meet earlier when the space was pretty much vacant, and only a few other people were working out on the treadmills.

He found Matt in the basketball court, dribbling a ball back and forth by himself. "Hey, man," he called, causing Matt to fumble and drop the ball, letting it bounce over to Mike.

"Whoops," he said with a sheepish grin. "I haven't officially woken up yet."

"Dude, it's like eleven o'clock."

Matt shrugged. "Hey, we went to a party last night, remember?"

"Yeah, a lame one."

"True," Matt agreed as Mike tossed the ball back and set his gym bag on the bleachers, bending over to make sure his shoes were tightly tied. "How was it after I left?"

"Even lamer," Mike said, jogging onto the court. "The others decided to pull a dumb prank on me for some reason, saying they didn't know who you were. I guess it could've been funny if my brain wasn't still recovering from the slushies we sucked down earlier."

Matt chuckled. "Well, maybe they don't know who I am. I'm not exactly verbal."

"So?" Mike snatched the ball from him and shot it towards the net. It hit the rim and sailed back. "I'll admit, it was a little weird when Rachel went along with it."

Matt's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. Wish I'd been there to see _that_."

Mike laughed, dribbling the ball back and forth between his legs. "Come on, man, are we gonna play ball or what?"

"Maybe we should pull a prank on _them_," Matt said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Mike smiled. "Like what?"

Matt's grin grew wider. "I have an idea."

* * *

The following Monday, the two boys leaned against the wall outside Principal Figgins' office, wearing full backpacks and appearing as idle as possible as they waited for the bell to ring and signal that it was time for after-school activities.

"You sure this is gonna work?" Mike asked.

"Trust me," Matt replied, twirling his keychain around his index finger. "I'm great with accents."

A few minutes later, the bell rang shrilly throughout the hallways, signifying the arrival of 3:50, when meetings would commence for those teachers not burdened with activities to run. A few students passed by the hallways, heading to their clubs, and eventually, the office door opened and Figgins exited, followed by the secretary Mrs. Pearson.

"Good afternoon," said Figgins as he passed.

"Afternoon, Principal Figgins," they answered in unison, waiting until he and Mrs. Pearson had turned the corner to enter the outer office.

"Man, I wish this place didn't have glass walls," Matt said under his breath as he pulled the door open to Figgins' private office.

Mike shrugged. "Work with what you've got," he said. "Where's the intercom? Isn't it supposed to be on his desk?"

Matt circled around Figgins' nearly-empty desk and began to pull open the drawers. "I think," he said as he rummaged through the top one, "that how much crap is on a man's desk testifies to how much stuff he actually gets done. This being said…" He pulled open the second drawer. "…I think it's pretty clear that Figgins doesn't do shit."

Mike chuckled. "Save your theorizing for philosophy class."

"Found it," Matt announced, pulling out the microphone from the bottommost drawer and placing it on the desk. He grinned and took a seat in Figgins' chair. "Here goes." Pressing the button, Matt leaned forward and began to speak into the mike in a disturbingly perfect imitation of Figgins' Pakistani drawl:

"Attention, students of McKinley. We are currently commencing lockdown. Please remain in your classrooms. Turn off all lights, close any shades and doors, and keep as quiet as possible. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

Mike went to the door of the outer office, leaning into the hallway and listening as the sounds of doors slamming echoed throughout the school. He flashed a thumbs-up, and Matt shut off the intercom, storing the mike back in the bottom drawer. The two of them exited the office, walking briskly but quietly down the corridor, heading for the choir room.

* * *

For the first time ever, there was absolute silence amongst the Glee club as they huddled in a group in the corner of the room. The lights were off and it was dark except for the cloudy grayish sunlight of a rainy afternoon falling tiredly through the upper windows above the risers. The only sound was their collective breathing, until a shaky tune hummed beneath Rachel's breath broke the silence.

"What the hell are you doing!" Kurt hissed, his eyes wide and his skin paler than pale. He was holding onto Mercedes' hands with an iron grip.

Rachel blinked, then replied with a whispered, "I'm sorry, it's a reflex. I sing _Don't Cry For Me Argentina_ when I'm afraid."

"Well, you're freaking the rest of us out, so shut up," Quinn murmured, the usual bite absent from her tone.

Rachel said nothing, managing to restrain her vocal chords from both speaking and singing for the first time in her life. Instead, she only squeezed closer to Finn, her hands shaking.

Mr. Schue was keeping his eyes trained on the narrow windows inserted in both doors, watching like a hawk for any sign of movement. He was beginning to rethink their choice of hiding place. There weren't many places for twelve people to hide in the choir room (hell, there weren't many places for _one_ person to hide), and the spot they'd chosen was the darkest and hardest to see, but if a gunman were to peer in through the window in the door and squint, they'd be quite visible. Growing more and more nervous, he was on the verge of telling the kids to relocate to the blind spot (sandwiched behind the piano and in front of the shelves, directly in between the doors), when there was a sudden _bang_ that made them all jump. Rachel let out a tiny shriek.

And then, the door on the right began to rattle. _Bang_ after _bang_ after _bang_, and with each impact, the door shook and the entire group flinched. Rachel and Brittany started crying, huddling even closer to their respective partners.

Then, it was silent again.

"That didn't sound like gunfire," Puck whispered after several moments, finally vocalizing what everyone was thinking.

"No, it didn't," Mr. Schue agreed, still staring at the window.

"M-Mr. Schue?" Mercedes stammered softly. "What should we—_AH!_"

Mercedes (along with everyone else) screamed as the door burst open with a (much louder) _bang!_ and suddenly, they were being sprayed with…water? Their shrieks were choked off in surprise and confusion, only to be replaced with the sound of laughter.

Mike Chang was standing just inside the doorway, aiming a _water gun_ at them, and laughing.

Nobody moved.

"Surprise?" Mike said, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

Quinn stood up, her hands slowly curling into fists. "You _idiot_," she choked out. Storming forward, she punctuated each step with a single biting word. "You stupid, idiotic, asshole JERK!" The second she was within arm's reach, she pulled her hand back and slapped him across the face.

"Ow!" he cried, clutching his reddened cheek. "What, can't you guys take a joke?"

"It wasn't funny!" Brittany yelled. "You scared us!"

"Oh, come on—"

"Mike, you don't realize the seriousness of what you just did," Mr. Schue said, standing up and walking towards him, angrier than Mike had ever seen him. The rest of the kids were beginning to pull apart, standing up and stalking forward, each looking more furious than the last.

"Mr. Schuester, may I hit him, please?" Rachel shrilled, glaring daggers.

"You _fucking asshole!_" shouted Puck.

"Dude, you _suck_," stated Finn with an expression like a kicked puppy.

"What the hell were you _thinking_?" screamed Santana.

"I wasn't!" Mike cried defensively. "I'm sorry; I wasn't. Matt and I were just—"

"Who the HELL is Matt?" yelled Rachel, completely exasperated.

"That joke wasn't even funny at the party," Finn snarled.

"Okay, guys, just – just lay off for a minute," Mr. Schue finally said. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, then running his hand over his mouth in thought. "Mike, I really don't know what to say. I have _never_ been so disappointed. I can't even imagine how you thought that would be funny."

"Mr. Schue—" Mike started.

"Don't," his teacher stopped him. "I'll see you in the principal's office."


	3. Chapter 3

_Me and him, him and me,_

_We're always together, as you can see._

_I wish he'd leave so I'd be free_

_I'm getting a little bit tired of he_

_And he may be a bit bored with me_

_But I guess there's worse things we could be_

_Instead of two, we could be three_

_Me and him, him and me._

~Shel Silverstein, "Us"

* * *

Mike was confused. Matt had said the prank would work. Matt had said it would be funny. Matt had said he'd burst through the second choir room door with his own water gun. _Matt said a lot of things_, Mike thought bitterly as he trailed behind Mr. Schue on the way to Figgins' office. He didn't think it was funny anymore, and he was already planning out his speech for the next time he saw Matt.

Mr. Schue sighed as he pulled open the door to the outer office. "Have a seat," he said.

Mike sat.

Mr. Schue entered Figgins' private office and pulled out the intercom from the desk. A second later, his voice boomed throughout the school. "This is Will Schuester," he said. "We had a false alarm – there's no intruders. Principal Figgins, if you could meet me back in your office ASAP? There's…an issue that needs attending. Thank you."

Mike let out a long breath, leaning his head back against the wall as Mr. Schue re-entered the outer office and sank into the chair next to Mike. "What the hell were you thinking, Mike?" he asked softly. "What was going through your head when you were planning that out?"

"Look, it was Matt's idea, I just went along with it and I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry," Mike rushed. "I feel terrible about it."

"Wait, you mean Matt Freeman?" Mr. Schue inquired.

Mike frowned. Matt Freeman was the goalie on the hockey team, whom Mike had never spoken to directly. He probably didn't even know who Mike was. "What? No. Matt Rutherford."

Mr. Schue shook his head. "Don't know him. Go on," he prompted.

Mike's stomach began to twist and curl around itself as he stared at his teacher, trying to figure out if he was joking or not. "Matt Rutherford," he said slowly. "He's in the Glee club!"

Mr. Schue's brows knitted together. "…No, he's not."

Mike could practically feel his brain heat up as it worked to process the information he was currently receiving. Mr. Schue was a terrible liar and a lame joker, and when he was serious he was _serious_, so there was no way that what he was saying right now was untrue. But _how_ could that be? Mr. Schue made it his mission to connect with his students – _all_ his students – so how was it that he could just forget who Matt was?

"Mike?" Mr. Schue said. "Are you all right?"

Mike didn't respond, trying to remember the last time Matt had spoken during Glee practice so he could give Mr. Schue's memory a boost.

"Mike, what does Matt look like?"

"What? Um, he's…about six feet tall, he's half black, he's on the football team…" Mike stammered. "Why do you need me to tell you this? He's one of your students!"

Mr. Schue placed a hand on Mike's forearm in an attempt to console. "Mike, calm down. And believe me when I say that I have never had or heard of a student by that name and description."

Before Mike could protest (again), the door opened and Figgins walked in, looking rushed and slightly freaked out. "William! What in the name of Elvis is going on?"

Mr. Schue was still watching Mike with a mix of worry and disappointment. "You want to tell Prinicpal Figgins why we're here?"

Mike sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "It was a prank," he confessed. "It was a stupid, dumb prank."

Figgins pressed his lips together. "Why don't we go into my office."

His head hanging, Mike stood up and followed Mr. Schue and Figgins, falling into one of the chairs across from the principal's desk. Just as Figgins was about to open his mouth and begin speaking, the door burst open and Sue stormed in, her eyes blazing.

"William! I should have known that one of your kids was behind this! Principal Figgins, I'm submitting my vote for capital punishment!"

"Sue!" Figgins cut her off loudly. "Please. This is between myself, Mr. Schuester, and Mr. Chang. No one is going to be executed and I don't care how much pull you have with the school board! Now, if you'd be so kind…?" He gestured towards the door.

Her nostrils flared and she turned to point at Mike's face. He flinched. "You have _no idea_ how far up this creek you are without a paddle. You can be sure that Gloria Allred and I _will_ be pressing charges!" And with that final threat, she stormed out the door.

Mike gulped audibly. Mr. Schue sighed. "Mike, she's never once followed through on that threat. I wouldn't be worried about her if I were you."

Letting out a long breath, Mike forced himself to calm down.

"Now, Mr. Chang," Figgins began, leaning back in his chair. "While I'm not going to have you executed, you must understand that what you have done is very serious, and severe punishment will be dealt."

Mike nodded wordlessly.

"Have you anything to say?"

"I was just going along with Matt – it wasn't my idea," Mike said. "But I should never have done it, and I'm really, _really_ sorry."

"Which Matt are we speaking of?" Figgins inquired.

"Rutherford."

Figgins pressed the intercom and asked Mrs. Pearson, who had returned to her desk a few minutes ago, to find Matt Rutherford and bring him to the office (and if he was at home, call him in to school), and then returned his attention to Mike. "Tell me how and why you and Matt decided to pull this prank," he said.

Mr. Schue sat quietly and listened with a dubious frown as Mike told the story of how the other Glee kids had pretended not to know who Matt was and that had resulted in Matt's suggestion of returning the favor. Mike was just about to say (again) that the prank had gotten out of hand when Mrs. Pearson poked her head into the office.

"Mr. Figgins, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I tried to look up Matt Rutherford's schedule and contact information on the school database, and there's no students registered under that name."

Figgin's bushy eyebrows snapped together, and he glanced at Mike in confusion. Mike was wide-eyed and his heart was picking up the pace again. This had gone so far beyond funny by now.

"Thank you, Mrs. Pearson," Figgins said, dismissing her. Once she'd scurried back to her desk, he leaned forward, speaking directly to Mike. "Mr. Chang, the longer you continue to lie about this, the more severe your punishment will be."

"But I'm not lying!" Mike cried, at his wit's end. "I don't know what's going on, but Matt Rutherford was the one who came up with this idea, _not me_, I _swear!_"

"Mike, calm down, okay?" Mr. Schue said softly. "We just want to hear the truth."

"This _is_ the truth!" Mike's voice rose. "Look, Matt Rutherford has been my best friend since eighth grade! He's in your Spanish class _and_ Glee club _and_ the football team so I don't know _why_ you don't know who he is!"

Figgins cut him off. "Mr. Chang, if Matt Rutherford attends McKinley, then why are his records not in the database?"

Mike ran a hand through his hair, more than a little freaked out. "I don't know – Matt's always been good with computers. Maybe he hacked into the system?"

"That's a pretty long shot," Mr. Schue said. "Look, Mike…if Matt is your best friend, then why is he letting you take the fall for this alone?"


End file.
